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Boromir was a warrior, born and bred to it. He was at home with his men on the field of battle. He had spent most of his youth training for battle and most of his adulthood away from Gondor fighting. On this rare occasion he was home, it seemed as if the battle had followed him. A large group of southerners had come to Gondor to make war.
Well, he would give it to them. He called his captains together to discuss how to rout this enemy. He didn’t bother to consult his father. He knew his father had his own guard to keep the castle safe anyway. His job was to defend the city. His city was well armed and his army large. He wasn’t worried about defeat, but he hated loss of life among his men. He decided rather than risk the civilian population in the city; he would take the battle out onto the plain and meet the enemy in face to face combat.
The battle was going well. The southerners were falling back in places and all that was left were a few pockets where fighting was still strong. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a monstrous gray stallion. Damn! Only one person rode that stallion - his younger brother Faramir. What was he doing out here? He was old enough to be a soldier, but he had little experience. He could easily get himself killed. The southerners were excellent swordsmen and were good with bow and arrow too.
Without another thought, Boromir spurred his horse after his brother’s mount, but the younger man was soon lost in clouds of dust on the battlefield. Boromir later wondered how he managed not to get himself killed riding willy-nilly from one skirmish to another, searching for Faramir. All to no avail.
His chest hurt as he kept looking. He didn’t even know if the battle was being won or lost. All he knew was that he had to find Faramir. Faramir had to be safe! There was no other alternative. He rode and he rode. He caught sight of the demonic gray stallion again and spurred his horse forward, giving chase. He noticed that the battle was over finally, the battlefield littered with the bodies of the dead and wounded. He didn’t see his brother in any of the faces, and he saw him in all of them.
He finally caught sight of Faramir again, chasing him this time to a copse of trees far from the killing field. He leapt from his horse, and he and Faramir both hit the ground.
"You stupid jackass!" Boromir was screaming at the top of his lungs. "You could have been killed! You idiot!" He grabbed his younger brother, a man who was almost a mirror image of himself, and shook him hard. He kept shaking him as tears ran down his face. "You could have been killed!" He kept screaming until there was just sound, no words coming out of his mouth.
Faramir didn’t even try to say anything, didn’t try to fight him off. When Boromir’s screams turned to sobs, he pulled his older brother into his embrace, patting his back and saying nothing.
Boromir could never say later why he kissed Faramir like he did. His mouth covered his brother’s mouth, hungrily, brutally, biting tender lips before invading like a marauder with his tongue. Faramir did not resist. He allowed it, welcomed it even. He welcomed the rough, dirty hands that ripped his shirt and trousers in their haste to remove them.
Boromir touched his skin as if he wanted to get beneath it to his very soul. Faramir felt almost as if he were outside his body watching as Boromir touched him all over, turning him so his back was to him, pushing him against the largest of the trees. He heard him fumbling with the fastenings of his own trousers and suddenly he was on fire as Boromir split him open with a hard thrust of his thick shaft.
Faramir stifled his screams by biting his hand. He bit hard enough to draw blood before he pushed back the scream that tried to rise to the surface. He wasn’t afraid, though. He knew how much Boromir loved him. Boromir tried not to move for a while. He knew he was hurting Faramir, but he loved him so much, he needed… oh gods, how he needed him. Boromir actually came inside him without moving, his semen finally lubricating the passage so he could move without further tearing Faramir.
He stood still and barely breathing, leaning against Faramir. He gathered his battered brother into his arms and kissed him. Faramir returned the kiss, all his love for his brother pouring out into the kiss as they sank to the grass under the trees. Boromir held him and touched him all over, hands exploring the hard muscled young body. He finally touched Faramir’s cock and was a bit surprised to find it rock hard. He stroked it as he moved the younger man up into his lap, rubbing his cock against Faramir’s ass.
The kisses continued for what seemed like forever, until both were panting. Hands explored slowly, gently this time. Skin tingled from tenderness and desire.
"I love you, Boromir. Please love me again, please." Boromir did, moving behind Faramir spoon fashion and slipping inside gently and easily this time. He and Faramir both had a hand on the younger man’s cock. They moved slowly, gently with Boromir kissing the smooth skin of Faramir’s shoulder and his neck. They came almost together, the younger one first. Boromir whispered how much he loved him over and over this time as he rocked him gently in his arms.
Later, they still lay in the grass. No one had come to look for them, and they were glad to be alone.
"I wish I could protect you forever, Faramir. I don’t think I will be able to, though. Father sends me out again soon. One day I will leave and not return to you. I hope you know I love you, brother, more than life itself. If I should die, I shall come to you and tell you of my passing. You are the only one who would mourn me, and I would bid you farewell." He kissed his bother then.
They dressed and found their horses and rode back to the house of their father.
~End~
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